Harry Potter and the Path to Happiness
by EmeraldGrey123
Summary: The war is over but Harry and Draco are not yet happy with their lives. One by one, their friends and families come forward to help bring them together so they can find true happiness in love. Drarry Slash 3, Warning: Excessive fluffiness in places, bring a toothbrush if you intend to stay for long... )
1. A Quiet Life

Author's note: Hi there! Welcome to my first ever fanfic! Please take the time to tell me what you think afterwards, I love reviews =)

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Harry stared critically around the living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Since Kreacher had been so amiable to Harry since the locket episode almost a year previously, Harry had recently suggested to the house elf that they redecorate in the spirit of starting over after the war. The funerals and memorials had ended almost a month ago, and now Harry just wanted to live in peace. That evening, they were done with the entire house; it couldn't look more different. The gloomy walls had been repainted in light neutrals, and the dark decor replaced with wooden furniture and green accents (this was Harry's way of showing support for Kreacher's late owner Regulus who had been a Slytherin who had contributed heavily to the horcrux hunt). Kreacher had also been persuaded to move the portrait of Walburga Black, and he had taken it with him to the kitchen, where he was now cooking dinner.

Harry meanwhile had only one job left to do. He walked into the drawing room which housed the sprawling Black family tree tapestry. He raised his holly and phoenix feather wand which had been repaired after the battle, and blasted the names Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy off the tree. He then found the burn marks where Sirius and Andromeda, who was now his aunt Andy, should have been, and restored their names. His work done, he went to the dining room just as Kreacher brought out dinner.

He sat down at the small table with Kreacher. One of the first things he had done as the new head of the Black family was sitting down with Kreacher and talking to him about his new rights. Kreacher was treated as a complete equal and was now allowed to come and go as he pleased as long as he did not share the location of the house or any of Harry's secrets, and in return he would sit down with Harry for meals. Although Hermione had asked him to, he had not freed Kreacher as the elf was happy to be bound to Harry now, and Harry didn't want to cause another rift between them since he now lived there. They were both done quickly, as the renovating had tired them out, and Kreacher soon disappeared to wash up.

Harry went back into the living room and flopped onto the sofa and picked up a book from the shelf nearby. He had decided not to go into Auror training, having had enough of fighting, and was currently researching alternative job paths. Although technically he didn't have to ever work with the amount of money in his vault, he wanted an occupation. Currently he was studying for his NEWTs as he needed qualifications, but couldn't return to Hogwarts as it wasn't yet open. He had found that he could actually study pretty well without being forced to when he could use an ordinary pen and paper for notes instead of a parchment and quill and didn't have Hermione breathing down his neck about homework. He was in fact a good way through his seventh year syllabus on every subject except Potions. He didn't have the facility of a potions lab for the practicals yet, and his lessons with Snape had not set a good groundwork for the theory either. Despite his newfound immense respect for the man since the revelations from the pensieve the day of the battle, his teaching methods had left a lot to be desired. Harry was hoping that an epiphany would come to him regarding Potions eventually, as he really didn't want to ask Hermione (she would be disapproving), or Ron (he wouldn't have a clue either).

An hour passed as Harry took notes on illusion Charms. Then, just as he was putting away his book and writing materials, the Floo roared to life.


	2. Floo Talk

"Hello? Harry?" came Hermione's voice from the fireplace. Harry turned around to face the fireplace and sat cross-legged on the floor.

"Hi, Mione," he replied, "How are you?" Harry had adopted this nickname for her since they had grown so close in the war, she was practically a sister to him in all but blood.

"Great, actually. Ron and I just came back from our first date! I thought I'd poke my head in for a chat."

"That's nice, I'm so happy for you two."

Harry wasn't lying. He was truly happy to see Ron and Hermione together, Merlin knew they deserved to be together after all that dancing around each other since their fourth year at least. He just wished he was as lucky with his love life. Grimmauld Place got a bit lonely sometimes when he had nothing to do and everyone else was busy, and it would be nice to have someone to love and share his life with. Unfortunately, it showed in his tone. Hermione, ever the smart one, noticed of course.

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

"No, not really, just a bit lonely."

"Grimmauld Place is rather big isn't it?" Hermione had an uncanny knack of reading his thoughts sometimes. He nodded and there was a short pause.

Then abruptly she said, "Ever thought of getting back together with Ginny?"

Harry thought about lying and saying "Yes" but thought better of it; Hermione was smart enough to call him on his bluff. "No, not really."

She frowned. "Why? You seemed like you had a good relationship, and in the tent she was often all you thought about. You even stared at her dot on the map until she left, what changed your mind?"

Harry couldn't truthfully say he had no idea, but he didn't really want to reveal the truth yet. He wasn't even quite sure it was the truth. But there was one thing he was sure of. "I think my feelings for her have changed after all we went through in the war. She feels like a sister to me now. I still love her, but not in the same way any more."

To his surprise, Hermione nodded instantly and her face cleared. "That's what I thought might have happened. Don't worry about it Harry, people's feelings change all the time before they find the person meant for them." Here she coughed what sounded like "Ron" under her breath. "It just means Ginny wasn't quite right for you, and I think you're not really quite right for her either. She needs someone with less of a temper like hers!" she giggled. "I'm sure you'll find that special someone."

"I hope so, Mione, I really do."

Hermione yawned. "I think I should go to bed. I feel rather tired now. But I think Ron still wants to say hi. Is that okay?"

"Sure, goodnight Mione."

"Goodnight Harry, sweet dreams." Her head disappeared from the flames for a second, then Ron's grinning face popped in.

"Hey mate, alright?"

"Yeah. How was the date?" Harry teased. As predicted, a blush appeared on Ron's face. Or what looked like a blush anyway, since his head was green and in a fireplace.

"It was the best! We went for dinner in that fancy restaurant in Diagon Alley, the one run by that French bloke, and it was dance night so we danced a few songs, and I didn't even step on her toes or anything, it was the best night of my life..." His eyes took on a slightly glazed look.

Harry subtly coughed a little after Ron had stared into space for a minute to bring him back to reality. Then he wished he hadn't after Ron's next sentence.

"You know, mate, you should bring Ginny along next time, we can have a double date!"

"Erm, well, Ron, we, er, that is to say..."

"Huh?"

"We're not actually going out," Harry mumbled.

"What? Why? I thought you two had a thing for each other and were gonna get back together after the war? If you're stringing her along or anything, then best mate or not, I'm gonna have to hurt you-"

Harry shook his head quickly. "No Ron, it's not like that at all. I don't think I like her the same way any more. I don't know when this happened, but she's like a sister now. Same as Hermione."

"Oh." Ron took a second to think it over, then said "Well, you're still part of the family anyway, honorary Weasley and all that. I'm sure you'll find someone else. To be honest I think Ginny's forgotten about you two anyway... She's been sending a lot of owls lately and I don't think they were to you."

They both grinned at each other, Harry almost sagging with relief at Ron's acceptance of the situation.

"Thanks, Ron."

"Any time, mate. Hey, I'm gonna go sleep now, yeah? You should too, you've been studying way too hard. Hermione's been a bad influence on you!"

"Ooh, a nine letter word!" Harry teased.

"Yeah, well, she's Hermione," Ron muttered rather lamely, then he said "Bye, Harry."

"Yeah, bye Ron," Harry grinned.

Ron's face disappeared from the flames and they returned to their usual warm orange glow. Now all Harry had to do was drag himself up to bed, where he slept soundly, completely unaware of what was to come the next morning. 


	3. Thank Harry

Draco sat up in bed and looked at the clock. The hands showed 11 o'clock. He sighed happily. This was the first day he had slept in for a very long time, as his father was no longer there to wake him up ridiculously early to 'train'.

The war trials were very kind to Draco Malfoy and his mother, Narcissa. To their immense surprise, yesterday one Harry James Potter had shown up to testify for both. As a result, Draco had been completely cleared of all charges that afternoon, on the basis that he had been a minor who was coerced into committing small crimes to protect his family from Voldemort (no one was afraid to say the name now). Harry had also, surprisingly, cleared both his and his godfather Severus Snape's characters by explaining the events of the night Dumbledore had died.

His mother had been saved by her compassion. The Unbreakable Vow, her refusal to participate in any of Voldemort's killings or torture sessions at their manor, and of course saving the life of the Boy Who Lived had meant no charges were pressed against her. They both walked out of the courtroom as individuals respected for their bravery in situations many would be happy never to experience.

The same could not be said for his father. As well as the numerous despicable acts he had committed as a Death Eater in both wars, Draco himself had testified that there was no Imperius curse, and Harry had added his Knut's worth about the Chamber of Secrets incident in their second year and the graveyard in fourth year. His father was sentenced to Azkaban while they set up a schedule for pushing the Inner Circle Death Eaters through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries in a few weeks time, when all the trials would be over. And to be frank, Draco wasn't at all worried that he would never see the man who 'raised' him again. The man had been the direct cause of Draco taking the Dark Mark, getting involved in the war, and the psychological trauma that resulted. There was no love lost - there had been none in the first place. The man's parenting ability had only extended so far as to occasionally check Draco was still alive to carry on the Malfoy line, and give him 'Pureblood' lessons, ones which Draco heartily regretted having listened to in the first 18 years of his life.

Draco knew the press would have a field day with the lives of the Malfoys. As a result, he had not yet set foot out of the house. But that afternoon, he knew he would have to. He had to Thank Harry.

Now, this wasn't any social call. He was terrified. It wasn't the fact that Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort. That had practically been a given. The truth was, Draco had been Harry's nemesis in school, always taunting him and his friends, and trying to make his life hell since he had refused Draco's friendship on the train. He had been a total arse. But Harry had put their differences aside for some reason and helped both him and his mother when no one else would have. He had every right to be scared of meeting Harry. They had never had a conversation where one didn't insult the other, and now he had no idea what to expect.

After he had eaten lunch, he walked into the back garden where there was a secret hole in the wards, stepped through, and Disapparated. He thought of the co-ordinates of Grimmauld Place, whose location he had found out from his mother (Dumbledore had told her so they had a safe house if anything drastic happened during the war, and they needed to escape). He reappeared in a dingy old square with an unkempt patch of grass in the middle. At first, he could not see a Number 12 anywhere. But as soon as he thought the number, a house loomed into existence. A Fidelius had been at work.

The outside Number 12 Grimmauld Place was imposing enough when Draco stepped up to the front door, but his gut was telling him to be more afraid of the man inside. He knocked three times then clenched his hands in fists by his side in an effort to stop them shaking. For a few seconds there was no noise, then he heard bolts sliding back and the door swung open silently. There was a horrible pause, during which Draco stared at his shoes, not quite daring to look up. Then...

"Malfoy? What - "

Draco flinched involuntarily at the use of his surname. To him, Harry had stopped being Potter sometime the previous afternoon.

"Er, could I come in?" he mumbled to his shoes.

"Erm... sure." Harry stepped back while Draco moved past him into the house. Then, without another word, he closed the front door, turned his back on Draco, and turned right into a room. Draco followed.

"Would you, you know, like some tea or something?" Harry asked once they were both awkwardly seated on armchairs facing each other.

"No thanks." There was another painfully drawn out pause. Draco still hadn't looked up.

After about 30 seconds of silence, Harry seemed to have had enough.

"Okay, I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but why are you here, Malfoy?" Harry asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. But Draco failed to notice this indication of possible friendliness. He was too busy flinching at the surname. Again.

However, he recognised that he needed to say something, so he tentatively began, now looking at Harry's knees. "I'm sorry to show up unannounced, but I had something to tell you. I wanted to say thank you for what you did for Mother and I at our trial. I thought we were going to go to Azkaban, but you saved us, even though you had no reason to help a Death Eater's family. You will probably never know how grateful both of us are to be free."

There was a ringing silence.

[TBC in Harry's POV.] 


	4. Not The Wrong Sort

Harry was, to put it mildly, gobsmacked. He felt a rather sudden urge to reassess his entire life. He also temporarily resisted the compulsion to check the sky outside for flying pigs. But he did let his jaw drop. He did have to express the astonishment somehow, after all.

Eventually, his brain unfogged enough for him to realise it was still silent, and Malfoy was still staring at his shoes. It was an unsettling picture. To him, Malfoy had always been a sharp, sarcastic person, yet here he was looking soft and hiding his face and giving thanks and sounding sincere and having a whole host of other un-Malfoyish qualities.

Dimly, a small corner of Harry's brain registered that it quite liked this nice Draco Malfoy. The rest of his brain then attempted to squash that thought. Harry decided to say something before his brain could have any more disturbing revelations.

"It was nothing more than what you deserved, you know. You were innocent. And really, I think you can call me Harry."

Harry pondered the three sentences that had just come out of his mouth to Malfoy, of all people. But repeating them in his head, he knew that they were completely true. He felt no animosity for the person sitting in front of him - Voldemort was the only true enemy.

And really, who could take back those words in the face of the reaction they elicited? For Malfoy had looked up for the first time since walking in, and positively beamed at Harry, his silvery eyes glittering. The warmth of it was like having a light bulb shone in his face. Harry smiled back; it was rather contagious. The small treacherous part of Harry's brain promptly decided it liked that smile. He tried to repress that thought too.

Then Malfoy said, "You can call me Draco then, Harry."

Harry was reminded of an incident on the Hogwarts Express seven years ago, when making friends hadn't been quite so frictionless. He had an idea, and stuck out his hand. "I don't think you're the wrong sort any more, either, Draco."

Draco's eyes went slightly glassy as he recognised the significance of that last sentence. He focused on Harry's hand as he reached out to shake it and whispered, "You're not so bad yourself."

They both laughed at that. The tension had been broken well and truly.

"So, how about that tea?" Harry asked. "I usually have a cup round about now."

"Okay. Milk and two sugars, please?"

In the kitchen, Harry marvelled at the newfound manners. Maybe they could be good friends, the small corner of his brain thought. And this time, he didn't stop that part of his brain thinking. It was always good to have friends.

They drank their tea in silence, this time much more companiable though, and Draco got up about twenty minutes later. "I have to be getting back to the Manor now. Will I see you around?"

Harry had another inspiration. "I'm going to be helping McGonagall with the rebuilding of Hogwarts in two days time. You could come along?"

Draco furrowed his brow. He seemed to be thinking over the offer. Then, "Okay. I'll be there at 10. I want to talk more."

Harry couldn't deny that he was also curious about Draco. "Sounds great."  
Harry also rose to see Draco out of the front door. Just before Draco Disapparated from the step, he grinned at Harry, flashing his very straight white teeth. That night, Harry slept soundly, and dreamt fleetingly of grey eyes. 


	5. Friends Possibly

Draco reappeared just outside the wards for Malfoy Manor. His feet traced the well-worn route back to his room automatically, as he was completely incapable of paying any attention to his surroundings. His mind was busy replaying that conversation with Harry over and over again. Was it not strange that they should get along now, having been enemies for the last 7 years? But no, enemies was the wrong word. Draco had not killed the Harry's parents, after all. The title of enemy was, he supposed, reserved for the Dark Lord. Although Draco needed to remember to call him Voldemort now; the foul man that had almost wrecked Draco's life was no lord.

They had merely been rivals. Silly, schoolboy rivals, who had almost killed each other for reasons he was ashamed to remember. It was about time that their behaviour took a turn for the better. And turn it did. Draco knew that he had not mistaken the lazy feeling of contentment in the air as they sipped their tea, and he wondered at it. He had never felt anything like it around Slytherin. His House had been full of politics and power plays, and the only people he felt he could trust now were Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle, whom he had known since they were five and had played together in the gardens of Malfoy Manor. Indeed, Greg was the only one he had had contact with since the final battle, since Pansy was currently serving a month's term in Azkaban for trying to turn Hary over to Voldemort. But she didn't have the Dark Mark, and she was just as young as he. She would be back soon. He wouldn't allow himself to think about Vincent Crabbe. Poor, unfortunate Vince had cast the Fiendfyre spell in the Room of Requirement when they were trying to save their skins, and had not known how to control it, and had died in the flames. Draco was still repressing the memory; it hurt too much to think about it.

And it all went back to Harry again. Harry had saved him from the fire. Harry had defended him at the trial. Harry had given him tea, when by all rights he should never want to see Draco again. Nothing ever made any sense around Harry. And then Harry had invited him to come and help with the reconstruction of Hogwarts. Draco knew that he would be there. He was just too curious about this new Harry - one who didn't throw hexes or insult his pureblood upbringing. They could be friends.

Friendship was an almost alien concept to Draco. Pansy and Greg were more like the family he never had, having been an only child. He knew that most of the school had thought he was dating Pansy, but the truth was, he had never been attracted to anyone female or male at Hogwarts, and Pansy had happily played his fake girlfriend. They had only kissed on the lips once after the Yule Ball in fourth year, and had definitely never gone further. Greg was more like a loyal puppy. Draco really did like him and he stuck by Draco's side, but Greg wasn't intelligent. It became hard to hold an interesting conversation after more than about ten minutes, and Greg never could think for himself. Draco wanted a real best friend, one who would understand him and see the best in him, but at the same time challenge his wits and make him laugh. And the strange thing was that he could see Harry Potter filling that position. He had a lot of questions for the Boy Who Lived when they next met.

And maybe the guy would give him back his wand.

He decided to take a nap. Things might make a little more sense when he woke up. He drifted off on his bed, the Wizarding Wireless playing 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love' softly in the background. 


End file.
